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aSp f ulia W^va |)otoe 


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IS POLITE SOCIETY POLITE? and Other 


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HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 


Boston and New York 



AT SUNSET 




Johtv Elliott, Pi r\. 



Oly^iy^^x-^ 



AT SUNSET 



BY 



JULIA WARD HOWE 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

1910 



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COPYRIGHT, I9IO, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



Published December iqio 



'CGI.A2S0068 



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PREFATORY NOTE 



The putting together of her Occasional Poems was 
my mother's latest literary work, and was inter- 
r rupted by her death, untimely, though in the full- 

ness of years. In completing the publication which 
she had so much at heart, it has been thought best 
to include some personal poems which had never 
been revised by her, since, though her final judg- 
ment might have rejected them, one and all breathe 
her spirit and speak in her voice. To them are 
added a few poems of various periods which do 
not appear in any of her previous volumes. 

L. E. R. 
November, 1910. 



/ have made a voyage upon a golden river, 
^ Neath clouds of opal and of amethyst. 

Along its banks bright shapes were moving ever, 
And threatening shadows melted into mist. 

The eye, unpracticed, sometimes lost the current, 
When some wild rapid of the tide did whirl, 

While yet a master hand beyond the torrent 
Freed my frail shallop from the perilous swirl. 

Music went with me, fairy flute and viol. 
The utterance of fancies half expressed. 

And with these, steadfast, beyond pause or trial. 
The deep, majestic throb of Nature's breast. 

My journey nears its close — in some still haven 
My bark shall find its anchorage of rest. 

When the kind hand, which every good has given, 
Opening with wider grace, shall give the best. 



CONTENTS 



OCCASIONAL POEMS 

Abraham Lincoln 3 

Fulton 5 

The Capitol 8 

The Mariner's Dream 11 

New York 14 

Old Home Week in Boston .... 16 

Lexington Centennial, 1875 18 

A Word for the Moment 21 

The Cooperstown Centennial . . . .23 
Hymn for the International Congress of Reli- 
gious Liberals 25 

Kansas 26 

The Playhouse 28 

The Nation's Holiday 30 

Hymn for the Fourth of July .... 32 

The Glorious Fourth 34 

The Christmas Truce 36 

The Message of Peace 38 

ix 



X CONTENTS 

ArxER THE Convention 40 

The Queen's Jubilee 44 

Decoration Day 46 

Decoration Day 48 

The Departing Century 5° 

PERSONAL POEMS 

To Oliver Wendell Holmes on the Completion of 

HIS Seventieth Year 55 

Oliver Wendell Holmes (1894) . . . . 57 

Washington Allston 5^ 

Robert E. Lee 62 

William Ellery Channing 63 

Margaret Fuller 66 

Archbishop Williams's Jubilee . . . .68 

James A. Garfield 69 

John G. Whittier 7° 

Whittier . 73 

Abby Williams May 76 

James Freeman Clarke (on his Fiftieth Birth- 
day) 77 

James Freeman Clarke (on his Seventieth Birth- 
day) 79 

James Freeman Clarke (Centenary) ... 82 



CONTENTS xi 

Lucy Stone 84 

In Memoriam Otto Dresel 85 

To Mary . 87 

Phillips Brooks 88 

A Heart Offering to the Dead Bishop . . 89 
My First Thought on Hearing of Browning's 

Death 91 

Michael Anagnos 94 

Mary A. Livermore 96 

Wordsworth 98 

Leonard Montefiore 10 1 

The Lost Poem 103 

Frederic L. Knowles 104 

POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION 

From My Nursery .107 

Rouge Gagne 109 

The Open Door m 

Rafael's Saint Cecilia iii 

A Scrap 114 

A Dream of the Hearthstone . . . .115 

Flowers 117 

A Snap Shot 119 

A Legend of Brittany 120 



xii CONTENTS 

The Echo 122 

Among My Trees 123 

All Saints 124 

A Wage-Earner 125 

Wicked Patience 127 

The World Messenger . . . . .128 

A New Flag 130 

Song of the Harebell 133 

Night Thoughts 135 

To AN Infant of Days 136 

Humanity 137 

Building 138 

Quatrains 139 

In Music Hall 140 

On the Death of a Friend 141 

The Christ 142 

The Peace Congress 143 

In the Street 14S 

November 146 

Six Pretty Cradles 147 

Christmas 148 



OCCASIONAL POEMS 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

EEAD BY MRS. HOWE AT THE LINCOLN CENTENARY MEET- 
ING IN SYMPHONY HALL, BOSTON, FEBRUARY 12,1909 

Through the dim pageant of the years 
A wondrous tracery appears: 
A cabin of the western wild 
Shelters in sleep a new-born child. 

Nor nurse, nor parent dear can know 
The way those infant feet must go; 
And yet a nation's help and hope 
Are sealed within that horoscope. 

Beyond is toil for daily bread, 
And thought, to noble issues led, 
And courage, arming for the morn 
For whose behest this man was born. 

A man of homely, rustic ways, 
Yet he achieves the forum's praise. 
And soon earth's highest meed has won, 
The seat and sway of Washington. 

No throne of honors and delights; 
Distrustful days and sleepless nights, 
3 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

To struggle, suffer, and aspire, 
Like Israel, led by cloud and fire. 

A treacherous shot, a sob of rest, 
A martyr's palm upon his breast, 
A welcome from the glorious seat 
Where blameless souls of heroes meet; 

And, thrilling through unmeasured days, 
A song of gratitude and praise; 
A cry that all the earth shall heed, 
To God, who gave him for our need. 



FULTON 

READ BY MRS. HOWE AT THE HUDSON-FULTON CELEBRA- 
TION IN NEW YORK, SEPTEMBER, I909 

A RIVER flashing like a gem, 
Crowned with a mountain diadem, 
Invites an unaccustomed guest 
To launch his shallop on her crest — 
A pilgrim whose exploring mind 
Must leave his tardy pace behind : 
"My bark creeps slow, the world is vast, 
How shall its space be overpassed? " 

Responsive to his cry appears 
A visionary, young in years. 
Commissioned with prophetic brain 
The mystic problem to explain: 
"Where fire and water closest blend, 
There find a servant and a friend!'* 

Yet many a moon must wax and wane, 
With sleepless nights and days of pain, 
Pleadings a monarch's court before, 
Shrewd processes and study sore, 
S 



FULTON 

Ere on the silver tide shall float, 

Swifter than thought, young Fulton's boat. 

And not alone for Hudson's stream 
Avails the magic power of steam. 
Blessings of unimagined worth 
Its speed shall carry round the earth; 
Knowledge shall on its pinions fly. 
Nor land nor race in darkness lie; 

Commerce her hoards shall freely bring 
To many an urgent summoning. 
And Want and Wealth, in sundered lands, 
Shall closely clasp redeeming hands. 
While master minds new gospels span, 
The holy brotherhood of Man. 

Rest, Fulton, in thine honored grave. 
Remembered with the wise and brave. 
Not wholly dost thou yield to death, 
For on the wind blows fiery breath, 
And on the wave the solemn tread 
Of multitudes o'er ocean led. 
And in our grateful hearts a shrine 
Of loving memory, all are thine. 

And as one sun doth compass all 
That can arise, or may befall; 



FULTON 

One sentence on Creation's night 
Bestowed the blessed boon of light, 
So shall all life one promise fill 
Of gentle nurture and good will, 
While, pledge of Love's assured control, 
The Flag of Freedom crowns the pole. 



THE CAPITOL 

FOR THE FIRST MEETING OF THE AMERICAN ACADEMY OF 
ARTS AND LETTERS, WASHINGTON, DECEMBER I4-16, I9OO 

Where shall our nation's temple stand ? 

Centre of counsel and command; 

A Mecca of unfailing faith; 

A Zion of unwavering hope; 

A fortress that with grim assault 

And deadly stratagem may cope; 

A Rome that weaves no slavish bond, 

But wins allegiance firm and fond. 

I see the noble structure rise, 
The dome descending from the skies 
To lofty station, that the eye 
And will of man may aim so high, 
While walls of hospitable space 
The people's judgment-seat embrace. 
Here shall avail the argument 
Of just endeavor and intent; 
Here shall the widow's prayer be brought, 
The orphan's sacred claim be sought; 
The heavenly sisterhood of art 
Keeping unstained a nation's heart; 
8 



THE CAPITOL 

An altar for each honest creed, 

A court where each just cause may plead, 

A sentence of eternal lore 

Uttered in whispers heretofore, 

But now with silver trump proclaimed 

To men and regions newly named, 

That right with right may fitly join, 

The weal of each for all combine; 

No need to snatch, no need to slay, 

"For a republic's hoHday. 

The chief who gave our shrine his name 

Barred it thenceforth from evil fame. 

Upon his laureled tomb doth lie 

The pledge of immortality. 

For all his way was writ of Fate 

In holy footsteps consecrate. 

Where the sad spoils of warfare rest 
Nirvana sits, a solemn guest, 
Safeguard of rule that may not cease, 
Sponsor of righteousness and peace. 

How shall we overmatch the past 
With merits, shaming each the last ? 
Fast holding each illustrious theft 
Old Time has patterned in his weft, 
Losing no touch of hero song. 
Yielding no step of vanquished wrong, 



lo THE CAPITOL 

No conquering grace that marks the line 
Where human beauties grow divine. * 
Let him who stands for service here 
With deeply reverent soul draw near, 
Intent from every season's youth 
To pluck the new commissioned truth; 
To lift the weight that most offends, 
The need that other needs transcends; 
In distant prisons, sad and drear. 
The captive's lonely heart to cheer, 
And in earth's wildest wastes arouse 
The music of the Father's house — 
Home for the homeless, priceless rest, 
Heaven's seal of promise, dearest, best. 



THE MARINER'S DREAM 

READ AT CENTRAL PARK AT THE UNVEILING OP ^"^ 
COLUMBUS STATUE, MAY 12, 1894 

Where shall we find the golden key 
That opes to peace and liberty ? 
The earth is full of grievous wars, 
The soldier's tread her beauty mars, 
The captive's chains are fast and locked, 
The poor man by the rich man mocked. 
The promise of the Christ we hear, 
But who shall bring fulfillment near ? 

A dream came to a sailor bold, 
A happy dream of good untold; 
And a little bird sang: "Follow me 
Westward, over the unknown sea. 
A star shall lead thy chosen band, 
And bring thy slender craft to land. 
Beyond the waters thou shalt find 
Regions of splendor unconfined. 
Where giant rivers fruitful flow. 
Where birds of tropic plumage glow, 
Where the old treasures of thy race 
Shall grow and multiply apace. 
II 



12 THE MARINER'S DREAM 

And ancient Rule renew its health 
In a new glorious commonwealth." 

The dreamer waking, bowed his head, 
And on the wondrous errand sped. 
With pleading rare he wrung the gold 
From hands reluctant to unfold, 
And loosing from old Europe's shore 
Sailed westward, westward evermore. 

"I hear a whisper in the breeze, 
Whispered from forests of strange trees, 
From depths of greenery unexplored. 
Where sounded ne'er the Christian word. 
I may not feed on light-earned bread, 
Nor on soft pillow rest my head. 
For still my wandering thoughts obey 
The mystic voice that calls away. 

• • •• • • • • 

"What though the way be long to find, 
Traced dimly in my laboring mind; 
Though wild impatience seize my crew, 
Distrustful of the venture new; 
Should all mankind against me turn, 
The haven gained, my wage shall earn. 
The yet undowered Future claim 
Earth's noblest conquest in my name." 



THE MARINER'S DREAM 13 

Oh, man of visions, sorely vexed! 
Denied, deserted, and perplexed; 
Shamed by rebuke from royal lips. 
And Fame and Fortune's sad eclipse, 
Thy furrow traced across the sea 
The unseen path of destiny. 
In thy firm hand the steadfast helm 
Steered onward to the magic realm. 
And now from out the centuries' maze 
Millions of voices sing thy praise, 
And hail those conquering footsteps trod, 
Inspired of angels, led by God. 



Here gather we in Gotham town, 
Of all our western world the crown, 
While ladies fair and gallants gay 
Unite to celebrate the day. 
But while we list the high discourse, 
And while the Paean has its course. 
Let Faith re-consecrate this form. 
Adventured once 'gainst sea and storm. 

For 't was this hand that held the key. 
Unlocking Peace and Liberty. 
When all we have and all we are 
Hung on the guidance of a star. 
And on the answer, dimly guessed 
In one resolved, responsive breast. 



NEW YORK 

She sits beside the ocean, 
With a river on either hand, 
And all the wealth of waters 
By giant girdles spanned. 

Like messengers of gladness 
The swift sails come and go. 
Full-freighted with a promise 
The hungry world should know, 

Since to Earth's farthest limits 
They bear the precious spoil 
Wrung from the gold-paved caverns. 
Brought from the teeming soil. 

Voices of many nations i 

Make music in the streets, 
Their blooded pulses quicken 
The heart that steadfast beats. 

Brave blood she brought from Britain, 
From Holland careful thrift, 
And ancient empires taught her 
Their wisdom and uplift. 
14 



NEW YORK 15 

She yields to helpful labor 
Its meed and honor fit, 
And in her princely mansions 
The peasant's son may sit. 

God grant our noble city 
Forever thus to stand, 
A sentinel of freedom, 
Guarding a blessed land. 

February 14, 1902. 



OLD HOME WEEK IN BOSTON 

Rome, on her hills of vantage throned, 
Gave to the world her strenuous rule. 

Isles of the sea her empire owned, 
The Nations studied at her school. 

Resplendent from her gates went forth 
The legions of her proud defence, 

And fiery South and frozen North 
Did homage to her eminence. 

Heroic souls her counsels gave; 

Wisdom her sturdy conquests held; 
Her towering eagle, fierce and brave, 

The tumult of the peoples quelled. 

The forest broods a better way 
Than the rude clutch of Rapine saw. 

Within her walls, to stand for aye, 
Was crowned the majesty of Law. 

Our City is as nobly set. 

Stately her hills, albeit but three, 
Glorious about her parapet 

Floats the dear Flag of Liberty. 
i6 



OLD HOME WEEK IN BOSTON 17 

Strong sons, the nurslings of her hearth, 
For freedom won the Western plains; 

To-day, with happy pride of birth, 

They come to show their splendid gains. 

Fair towns they builded as they went; 

Empires above their footsteps grew; 
For Justice stood their armament, 

For all th' illustrious truth they knew. 

Now, welcome young and welcome old! 

Salute with joy each sacred bound I 
The cradle of your race behold! 

Let the ancestral anthems sound! 

And let our Boston, from her heights, 
Match with her hills the virtues three, 

And crown them, as with beacons bright, 
With Faith and Hope and Charity. 



LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL 

APRIL I9TH, 1875 

One hundred years the world hath seen, 
Since, bristling on these meadows green, 
The British foeman mocked our sires, 
New armed beside their household fires. 

The troops were hastening from the town 
To hold the country for the Crown; 
But through the land the ready thrill 
Of patriot hearts ran swifter still. 

Our Fathers met at break of dawn. 
From many a peaceful haunt they come; 
From homely task and rustic care, 
Marshalled by faith, upheld by prayer. 

The winter's wheat was in the ground, 
Waiting the April zephyr's sound; 
But other growth these fields should bear 
When War's wild summons rent the air. 

Here flowed the sacrificial blood, 
Hence sprang the bond of Brotherhood; 
18 



LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL 19 

Here rose resolved for good or ill, 
The Nation's majesty of will. 

Oh Thou who Victor dost remain 
Above the slayer and the slain, 
Not ill we deem that in Thy might, 
That day, our fathers held their right. 

They knew not that their ransomed land 
To free the vassal'd Earth should stand; 
That Thou, through all their toil and pain, 
A home of nations didst ordain. 

Upon this field of Lexington 
We hail the mighty conquest won. 
Invoking here Thy mightier name 
To keep our heritage from shame. 

May peaceful generations turn 
To where these ancient glories burn; 
And not a lesson of that time 
Fade from men's thoughts through wrong and 
crime. 

Beside the hearth let freemen still 
Keep their integrity of will. 
And meet the treason of the hour 
With mind resolved and steadfast power. 



20 LEXINGTON CENTENNIAL 

But not in arms be our defence; 
Give us the strength of innocence, 
The will to work, the heart to dare 
For Truth's great battle, everywhere. 

So may ancestral conquests live 
In what we have and what we give; 
And the great boons we hold from Thee 
Turn to enrich humanity. 



A WORD FOR THE MOMENT 

THE BOXER REBELLION 



Art-angel Guido hangs upon my wall 
A moving picture of the Tempter's fall. 
Michael, bright champion of the heavenly host, 
Treads under foot the leader of the lost. 

Buskined with light, with faultless weapon armed, 
He stands above the prostrate foe, unharmed. 
The groveling wretch no counter-blow essays, 
Pinned down to earth, in impotent amaze. 

This vision, oft encountered, seems to say: 
The brute on earth shall never more hold sway; 
While, glorious as a seraph from the skies, 
Freedom makes good her deathless victories. 

II 

The legendary fight grows pale 
Before me, as I hear the wail 
Of men on noble errand sent 
And held with murderous intent. 
By frantic legions that essay 
To stifle Europe in Cathay. 

21 



22 A WORD FOR THE MOMENT 

My fancy shows each pallid face, 
True lovers, locked in last embrace; 
Parents who to their bosoms strain 
The babes they guard, but guard in vain. 

And as I kneel in prayer, I cry: 
Father! send rescue from on high ! 
The ways of human help are barred; 
Be thou, O Lord ! their watch and ward 1 

Alas ! alas ! their doom is sealed ! 
No source of succor is revealed. 
But still, beyond the bounds of sense, 
Prevaileth God's omnipotence. 

His seraph messenger may come. 
E'en to that fiend-beleaguered home, 
And unto those who perish give 
A crown denied to those that live. 

Ruler of all! to each brave heart 
The joy of martyrdom impart! 
Upon thy scroll of deathless fame 
Write them with those who overcame; 

W^ho, folded in the blessed light 
Of Christian faith and Christian right, 
Unto the bitter end abode, 
Sealed in the armory of God. 
1900. 



VERSES READ AT THE COOPERS- 
TOWN CENTENNIAL 

What village of the western wild 
Lifts its far challenge of romance 

From forests by the axe unspoiled, 
From where the skin-clad sachems dance ? 

Whose was the note? A bard of old 

Held nature subject to his song, 
Whose ringing strophes, clear and bold, 

The echoes of the world prolong. 

So, kindled with poetic fire. 

Aspiring from the virgin sod 
Came he who, to our heart's desire, 

The measure of the Muses trod. 

What voice like his the legend taught. 

The story of our pilgrim days ? 
The march with deadly danger fraught, 

The heroes ignorant of praise: 

The hunter bold, the savage dark. 
The breath of regions unprofaned, 
23 



24 THE COOPERSTOWN CENTENNIAL 

The rover with his phantom bark, 
The valiant spirits, rudely trained ? 

Be dear to us this sylvan ground 
That holds his ashes in its breast, 

While songs of love and praise resound 
Above the beauty of his rest. 

August, 1907. 



HYMN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL 
CONGRESS OF RELIGIOUS LIBERALS 

HELD IN BOSTON, I907 

Hail! Mount of God, whereon with reverent feet 
The messengers of many nations meet; 
Diverse in feature, argument, and creed, 
One in their errand, brothers in their need. 

Not in unwisdom are the limits drawn 
That give far lands opposing dusk and dawn ; 
One sun makes bright the all-pervading air, 
One fostering spirit hovers everywhere. 

So with one breath may fervent souls aspire, 
With one high purpose wait the answering fire. 
Be this the prayer that other prayers controls, — 
That light divine may visit human souls. 

The worm that clothes the monarch spins no flaw, 
The coral builder works by heavenly law; 
Who would to Conscience rear a temple pure 
Must prove each stone and seal it, sound and sure. 

Upon one steadfast base of truth we stand. 
Love lifts her sheltering walls on either hand; 
Arched o'er our head is Hope's transcendent dome. 
And in the Father's heart of hearts our home. 

25 



KANSAS 

Sing us a song of the grand old time, 
Of John Brown, martyr, our pioneer. 
Tell how, in view of a nation's crime. 
We breasted the wilderness, lone and drear. 
Bible and rifle in hand we went. 
To rear in the desert our flag and tent . 

For a wicked bugle note had called 

The m-en who would hold their fellow slave; 

When, at its falseness unappalled. 

Came forth a company clean and brave, 

Unfettered by customs old and ill. 

With the freeman's mind and the freeman's will. 

Some who started in manhood's bloom 
Short time abode and never returned, 
But most of us stayed as we found room. 
And fairly the Pilgrim's guerdon earned. 
With nights of watching and days of toil. 
We saved from dishonor a virgin soil. 

Firm on our shoulder the Duties sate 
That grow with the growth of human kind, 

26 



KANSAS 27 

No worship of Fortune, nor creed of Fate, 
But the leadership of the well-taught mind. 
Where the wild man left but briar and thorn. 
We planted the field, and gathered the corn. 

And so, we builded our cities fair, 
For our fathers' tongue and our fathers' faith. 
The church spire hallowed our place of prayer. 
The school bell uttered its blessed breath. 
And he who crosses our bound shall find 
That he leaves no gain of the age behind. 

With many a weary task 't was done. 
With murder lurking in thicket and grove, 
With backs that ached 'neath a burning sun. 
With homes that sheltered but thrift and love. 
We lightened our labor with speech and song. 
And the women worked with us, right along! 

Now, half a hundred years have sped 
To make the desert a blooming state; 
We thank our God for honest bread. 
For duteous children and loving mate. 
But most, that the Fathers went out to see 
The land redeemed for liberty. 



THE PLAYHOUSE 

READ AT THE CASTLE SQUARE THEATRE, MAY lO, 1905 

'T IS writ that Troy's wild prophetess 
In vision mystical could guess, 
When to th' Atrides roof she came, 
The story of its deeds of shame — 
Before her passed the victims slain. 
Glowed at her feet the bloody stain. 

But I, approaching this fair scene, 
Divine the Joy that here hath been, 
Where, each in his enchanted seat. 
The lovers of the drama meet, 
While Art unfolds the magic page 
That charms mankind from age to age. 

Here have you read in pictures fair 
The lesson of the things that were ; 
Othello, terrible and brave, 
Hamlet, discoursing o'er a grave, 
Macbeth with fatal aim pursuing 
The deed that ends in his undoing. 
And t3^es more modern, strange and rich, 
Framed to bewilder and bewitch. 



THE PLAYHOUSE 29 

And here for countless days to come, 
Shall harmless Pleasure make her home. 
Here shall you mark the season's flight 
With memories of pure delight, 
While Wisdom in each quaint disguise 
Your deeper thought shall recognise. 
Your plaudits shall the Right uphold, 
Your censure shame the villain bold, 
Your love enthrone life's greatest good, 
The glory of true humanhood. 



THE NATION'S HOLIDAY 

Our fathers met in grief and gloom, 

And as the Tyrant spoke their doom 

They answered, " Freedom shall have room.'' 

Backward, as to a golden store. 
They looked to valiant hearts of yore, 
Whose might the people's cause up-bore. 

And forward, in the skies above. 
They saw a heavenly banner move, 
Whose virtue they were bound to prove. 

For them the Galilean taught 

The truth with new deliverance fraught, 

And 'neath His martyr flag they fought. 

Now as our world stands at a loss, 
With all its treasures, all its dross 
To match the riches of the Cross, 

So, pomp of flags and marches gay 
And martial muster and array 
Are all too poor to praise this day. 
30 



THE NATION'S HOLIDAY 31 

How should we thank for boon so high? 
How keep above the things that die 
Our holy gift of Liberty ? 

With duteous heart revere the Past, 
Its doctrine and its deeds hold fast, 
But know, they should be over-passed. 

The harvest that 't is ours to reap 
With blood of heroes sown so deep, 
A bloodless vigilance shall keep. 

Build nobler temples, and enshrine 
On the heart's altar pure and fine, 
The Brotherhood that is divine. 

For our defence throughout" the land 
The school with open door shall stand, 
With truth and love in high command. 



From us, who meet with one intent. 

On due commemoration bent. 

Be this fair greeting world-wide sent: 

Not for us only did befall 
The good we conquered; hear us call 
^'One freedom and one God for all!" 



HYMN FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY 

Our fathers built the house of God; 

Rough-hewn, with haste its slabs they laid, 
The savage man in ambush trod. 

And still they worshiped undismayed. 

They wrought like stalwart men of war, ' 
Who wrung the state from heathen hands; 

Who bore their faith's high banner far, 
And in its name possessed the lands. 

The skill of strife to peaceful arts. 
Their perils over, glad gave way; 

The bond of freedom joined men's hearts 
More near than meaner compact may. 

We, followers of their task and toil, 

Inherited their dangers too; 
Drove bloody rapine from our soil, 

Th' oppressor dared, the murderer slew. 

Our heavy work, like theirs, at end; 

Returning from the death- won field, 
Brother with brother, friend with friend 

Again the house of God we build. 
32 



HYMN FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY 33 

Oh! may our ransomed freedom dwell 

In truth's own citadel secure; 
And blameless guardians foster well 

The mystic flame that must endure. 

The flame of holy human love, 
That makes our liberties divine; 

Let each strong arm its champion prove, 
And each true heart its deathless shrine. 
1865. 



THE GLORIOUS FOURTH 

Unfurl the flag, ye veterans all, 
Respond to the familiar call! 
Let Drum and Fife awakened be 
For Freedom's glorious Reveille! 

The gathering crowds with haste obey 
The joyful summons of the day. 
The cannon's rhythmic boom resounds, 
The snapping fire toy goes its rounds. 

•Above the noise, above the sport. 
Shall Justice hold her sober court: 
''You, people whom this day set free. 
What shall you do for liberty ?" 

" Our friendly harbors open stand, 
To hail the ships of every land. 
The fainting exile at our door 
Finds cheer and welcome evermore. 

With the great boon that we have gained 
A holy promise is enchained. 
Not for ourselves alone we fought, 
But for a wide deliverance wrought. 
34 



THE GLORIOUS FOURTH 35 

Freedom is in the dauntless heart, 
The will t' enact a noble part, 
The faith that reads with reverent eyes 
A message writ beyond the skies. 

While yet on earth one Tyrant wields 
The scourge that strips the fertile fields. 
While one his iron rule doth fling 
O'er men who call their conscience King, 
While Right from armed Might must flee, 
We are not free, we are not free. 

Where sets the Autocrat his seal. 
And starving hinds his prowess feel. 
Where bleeds the Christian for his cross, 
There do we suffer pain and loss. 

As in one temple let us kneel 
To pray for every nation's weal; 
Then speed the messengers of peace 
To cry: "The reign of blood must cease." 



THE CHRISTMAS TRUCE 

BETWEEN THE BRITISH AND THE BOER ARMIES 
DECEMBER 2$, 1899 

At early dawn, one wintry day, 
Two armies, oft encountering, lay 
Pledged to a fierce and fatal fight, 
Each hateful in the other's sight. 

Why sounds no more the iron rain 
Of missiles, nor the cry of pain ? 
And why do foemen greeting send 
As to a brother, or a friend? 

In ancient times of bloody war 
Stood portents in the heavens afar, 
And cloud-built hosts with seeming rage 
Approached each other to engage. 

What stood between the foes that day 
To keep the battle-fiend away ? 
What emblem consecrates the morn ? 
The vision of a Babe new-born, 

Foreseen in many a prophet's mind 
As the Redeemer of Mankind; 



THE CHRISTMAS TRUCE 37 

Belov'd, for help that He should bring 
To human woe and suffering. 

The centuries that lie between 
His sacred glory cannot screen. 
He bids the bitter conflict cease, 
And lifts His infant voice for peace. 

Oh! Babe adored! What passions wild 
Are stilled before that little Child 
Whose gentle Mother shall become 
The guardian spirit of the home ! 

His two small hands are stretched in love 

The sanguinary fields above. 
*'0h! harm each other not ! " He cries. 
*' Henceforth encounter brotherwise." 

Thus He who lived and died for all 
Announced His holy festival, 
And so th' opposing armies lay 
At peace on blessed Christmas Day. 



THE MESSAGE OF PEACE 

V WRITTEN FOR CHILDREN 

Bid the din of battle cease! 

Folded be the wings of fire ! 
Let your courage conquer peace, — 

Every gentle heart's desire. 

Let the crimson flood retreat! 

Blended in the arc of love, 
Let the flags of nations meet; 

Bind the raven, loose the dove. 

At the altar that we raise 

King and Kaiser may bow down; 
Warrior-knights above their bays 

Wear the sacred olive crown. 

Blinding passion is subdued, 

Men discern their common birth, 

God hath made of kindred blood 
All the peoples of the earth. 

High and holy are the gifts 
He has lavished on the race, — 
38 



THE MESSAGE OF PEACE 39 

Hope that quickens, prayer that lifts, 
Honor's meed, and beauty's grace. 

As in Heaven's bright face we look 
Let our kindling souls expand; 

Let us pledge, on nature's book, 
Heart to heart and hand to hand. 

For the glory that we saw 

In the battle-flag unfurled. 
Let us read Christ's better law: 

Fellowship for all the world! 

1899. 



AFTER THE CONVENTION ^ 

Soft I hear the church bell tolling in the distance 

clear and warm, 
Standing thought-bound in the hollow of my little 

Portsmouth farm. 
I to church would not be going, here is church 

enough for me. 
Let my ducks and geese give sermon and my brook 

make symphony. 

What, profane one ? art thou turning from the altar, 

from the creed ? 
Can the trees impress thy conscience and the bushes 

help thy need ? 
Oh! I come from days of talking, full of reasons 

long drawn out. 
Now, God's minister of silence comes to compass 

me about. 

My remembrance of the women ! from the forehead 

crowned in white 
Through the shadows brown and chestnut, to 

youth's tingling bloom and Hght; 

1 Evidently written many years ago, and never revised. 
40 



AFTER THE CONVENTION 41 

And the thoughtful words they uttered, bright with 

fancy, fond with faith. 
Firm with sober sense and resting upon truths that 

conquer death. 

But not alien to that meeting is this cluster of my 
trees. 

Where I pick the fallen apple and attend the rus- 
tling breeze; 

And the nuts are not yet gathered. Oh! the boys 
have need of them, 

Feast thou only on the mirror pond and dazzling 
• diadem! 

They are praying as they stand there, not in doubt 

and not in fear, 
Winter showing in the distance that shall make 

their beauty drear; 
They endure with stern composure all the shifting 

of the sun. 
Sighing oft the woman's whisper — let the will of 

God be done! 

No! an impulse stolen from summer lights them up 

before mine eyes 
As its lovely Indian changeling wafts a thought of 

Paradise. 



42 AFTER THE CONVENTION 

In the change of things diurnal they discern the 

changeless law, 
And great Hfe's eternal gospel thrills their heart 

with sudden awe. 

For that mighty truth gives freedom, far beyond 

the buds of spring. 
And the swelling fruit of summer, and the autumn's 

gathering. 
To the parent soul unswerving all things bud and 

blossom on, 
And the summer's good departs not when the 

summer's breath is gone. 

So the maple flushes fervent, looking up to Heav- 
en's blue ken. 

So the purple ash beside her breathes its soberer 
Amen. 

And the yellow oaks in copses, with a logic of their 
own, 

Link the litany of autumn in a mellow monotone. 

Days may perish, life endureth — in the winter 

harsh and rude 
May decHne our outward beauty, not our inner 

power and word. 
Spring shall bring us new rejoicing, autxmin crown 

us where we stand, 



AFTER THE CONVENTION 43 

When our cycles shall be numbered, still our seed 
shall keep the land. 

What the autumn trees can pray for? What the 

elder women say; 
Straight from Thee our being cometh, Thou who 

livest now and aye. 
Let us hold the precious essence, like pure vases 

void of blame, 
Handing down its sweet conditions to the things 

that keep our name. 

But the law of life is progress; as the forests bloom 

and grow. 
So the fortunes of great womankind in onward 

sweep we know. 
Grant us faith to gifts imparted in the viewing of 

the sun. 
Faithful fruitage, true transmission, and the will 

of God is done! 



THE QUEEN'S JUBILEE 

Th' assembled crowd of subjects wait 
The passing of a car of state 
With mounted guard and herald quaint, 
With ermined peer and mitred saint. 

Right royally the coursers prance, 
The sovereign, glittering to the glance 
With priceless gems of every clime, 
Moves on with bell and trumpet chime. 

Why does the splendid pageant stand 
Arrested by a waving hand ? 
An antic steed with murderous feet 
O'erthrows an urchin of the street. 

The Empress of as proud a realm 
As e'er saw statesman at its helm, 
Commands the pause, that she may know 
What harm o'ertook that stripling low. 

Where dwells the grace that fits a queen ? 

In bearing haughty or serene ? 

In lofty attitude of mind ? 

In pomps that dazzle humankind ? 

44 



THE QUEEN'S JUBILEE 45 

The queenliest action of that day 
When cheering thousands marked her way, 
Was that which showed how simply good 
Was the great lady's womanhood. 

1897. 



DECORATION DAY 

Earth from her winter slumber breaks; 
The morning of the year awakes. 
The vital warmth that buried lay 
Transcends again its house of clay, 
And to the greeting of the skies 
With thrilling harmony replies. 

A promise breathes from every furrow: 
"Dark yesterday makes bright to-morrow. 
Pursue no more the midnight oil; 
The sunlight measures cheer and toil; 
The winds proclaim, with odorous breath, 
The hfe that triumphs over death." 

Yet vanished days of many a year 
Remain to us possessions dear; 
We call the roll of those who dared; 
We bless the saints who hardly fared. 
Lending their martyred flesh to be 
The torchlight of Truth's victory. 

Still may we utter solemn praise 
Of those whose prowess filled their days 
46 



DECORATION DAY 47 

With thoughts and deeds of high renown, 
Which now our floral offerings crown. 
But as our earth from south to north 
Her glorious promise blazons forth, 
And timid spring and summer bold 
On autumn pour their wealth of gold. 

So let our buried heroes live 
In hands that freely guard and give. 
In minds that, watchful, entertain 
Great thoughts of Justice and her reign. 
That tend, all other tasks above. 
The household fires of faith and love. 
And keep our banner, wide unfurled, 
A pledge of blessing to the world. 
1908. 



DECORATION DAY 

SCHOOL AT WELLESLEY HILLS 

Sad festival, thy name recalls 
The faces pictured on our walls, 
The valiant hearts that many a year 
Are wanting to the household cheer. 

A shape went forth on bounding foot, 
Returned, a prisoner dread and mute; 
The blood that in its veins did leap 
Stained the pale marble of its sleep. 

Tears followed on those days of doom, 
And garlands for the hero's tomb; 
That fount of grief has never dried, 
Those garlands never are denied. 

Of years a score have nearly passed 
Since our war bugle blew its last. 
Where steel met steel for bitter loss. 
The threads of reconcilement cross. 

The brothers who were sundered then 
The bond of kindred own again. 
And South and North, and East and West, 
One life thrills in one nation's breast. 

48 



DECORATION DAY 49 

Forever blessed be their name, 
Forever sacred be their claim 
Who fought for that heroic tie, 
Who fell for Freedom's family. 

Fair maids who here secluded wait 
On Duty throned in Training's state. 
This day to you a lesson bears 
More weighty than the schoolroom's cares. 

Yours is the motherhood of men, 
The priesthood of life's deepened ken. 
Oh! may all words of sages rise, 
All poets' songs of many skies, 
Teach you a wisdom deep and true, 
A virtue brave, a music new. 

To you Columbia fondly looks. 
Informed with diagrams and books. 
She sees you, steadfast, climb the hill. 
Your urns from silvery fountains fill. 

And, linking soft a silken band. 
She lays the clasp within your hand. 
And says: "Your task must never cease; 
Aid noble men to keep God's peace." 



THE DEPARTING CENTURY i 

I WAS baptized in blood, and saw the light 
When wrong paraded in the garb of right, 
When dreams of poet and of ancient sage, 
Illumining the world's confused page. 
Were crossed with sanguine horror, guilt whose 

shame 
Did blot the nobler with the baser name. 
War's furious pulses coursed within my veins 
While dear my spirit held enfranchised plains 
Where heavenly peace, whom savage discords 

wound, 
'Twixt plant and plough a refuge calm had found. 

In sooth no common destiny was mine, 

Truth's oracles my wisdom did divine. 

Life's faded flag, in heroes' heart's blood dyed, 

I raised and floated, ever to abide 

Where cloud nor mist nor armament should hide. 

The mellow beauty of my afternoon 
Provoked the prophet's word, the poet's rune, 

1 Copied Oct. 14th, 1901. All this rushed into my mind one 
afternoon when I lay down to take my half-hour's rest. This I 
was forced to abbreviate in order to record the lines above. They 
are very rough. I wish I could improve them. 

5°, 



THE DEPARTING CENTURY 51 

And sun did never set so grand and free 
As mine, in gold and crimson blazonry. 

Above my ashes do not celebrate 
The contests blind of old imagined Fate. 
Build me enduring monuments of stone, 
But no uncertain message write thereon. 

Conceived in Doubt, engendered of Despair, 
Pledged to all deeds that men may dream and dare, 
I moved unfaltering to the solemn height 
Where warring rainbows meet in perfect light. 
Truth was my guest, belief in her my power, 
And of such good transcendent was my dower 
That I shall live in memory and in Fame 
As long as man his manhood's meed may claim ; 
Beloved for fetters loosed, for veils unbound. 
For God's great word, by God's great order 
crowned. 



PERSONAL POEMS 



TO OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 

ON THE COMPLETION OF HIS SEVENTIETH YEAR 

Thou metamorphic god ! 
Who mak'st the steep Olympus thy abode, 

Hermes to subtle laughter moving, 

Apollo with serener loving. 

Thou demigod also! 
Who dost all the powers of healing know; 

Thou hero who dost wield 

The golden sword and shield, — 

Shield of a comprehensive mind. 
And sword to wound the foes of human kind; 

Thou man of noble mould! 

Whose metal grows not cold 
Beneath the hammer of the hurrying years; 

A fiery breath doth blow 

Across its fervid glow, 
And still its resonance delights our ears. 

Loved of thy brilliant mates, 

Relinquished to the fates. 
Whose spirit music used to chime with thine, 

Transfigured in our sight. 

Not quenched in death's dark night, 
They hold thee in companionship divine. 

55 



S6 TO OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 

autocratic muse! 
Soul-rainbow of all hues, 

Packed full of service are thy bygone years; 

Thy winged steed doth fly 

Across the starry sky, 
.Bearing the lowly burthens of thy tears. 

1 try this little leap, 
Wishing that from the deep 

I might some pearl of song adventurous bring. 

Despairing, here I stop — 

And my poor offering drop; 
Why stammer I when thou art here to sing? 
1879. 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 

How shall the Muse of vanished years 
Fitly inscribe his two-fold page? 
Wizard of laughter and of tears, 
A master jester, and a sage. 

A presence answering to the cry, 
*'Lord! who shall show us any good?" 
A sheaf of sunbeams passing by. 
In jewels of delight renewed. 

Deftly he blew the pipes of Pan, 
Or swept Apollo's golden lyre; 
Rehearsing all the fate of Man, 
How he must suffer, how aspire. 

Oh! stay with us! Life cannot fail 
When thou its varied values showest! 
Or leave us thine immortal scale, 
And all the wondrous lore thou knowest! 

Weeping, we laid his form in earth, 
A soldier, fallen in the trenches, 
A winged spirit, free of birth; 
Look up ! he 's singing in the branches. 
1894. 

57 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

READ AT THE ALLSTON CELEBRATION OF THE NEW ENG- 
LAND women's CLUB 

PRELUDE 

Immortal Presence of the Beautiful! 
Thee our attempted festivals invoke. 
In Nature's chaos, passionless and dull, 
Thy voice the spell of dark disorder broke. 

Ev'n as thy fiat sowed the heavens with light, 
Herald of glories — torch of worlds unknown. 
Souls didst thou kindle, whose effulgent light 
The lustre of thy rolling orbs outshone. 

Our human hearts alternate day and night, 
Hopes dawn, attain their noontide, and decline; 
But when their flattering sun has spent his light. 
From purple depths the steadfast spirits shine. 

And we who thank for breath, and health, and 

sense. 
Our great world-sphere, its beauties and its laws, 
Bless most that ministry of life intense 
Whose holy office knows nor rest nor pause. 

58 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 59' 

We, whispering women, like an insect band 
Chirping the vespers of the summer day, 
Call with our simple music, poorly planned, 
On a majestic soul, beloved for aye. 

RECITAL 

The Puritan was strict and lone. 
He set his face, like flinty stone. 
His will resolved and sturdy hand 
To drive the demons from the land. 

In his belief, the harmful Powers 
That haunt this universe of ours 
Had settled purpose, form, and face. 
That ever warred with saintly grace. 

The shots he aimed were good and true; 
A thousand evil things they slew, 
Yet other evil, springing still. 
Brought torment to his manly will. 

''Here Law and Logic rule," he said, 

"Yet Disbelief erects her head. 
Sin grows apace, we work with pain, 
The native demons still remain." 

A whisper from the upper air 
Lightened with love that heavy care, 



6o WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

And bade on helpful errand start 
Th' anointed chivalry of Art. 

Supreme in that inspired band 
Did Allston's genius bless the land, 
Enthroning o'er the dark abyss 
Transcendent forms of heavenly bliss. 

Time flies away, with joys and pains; 
His guardian presence still remains, 
His noble fire, unquenched of death, 
His sentence, passing human breath. 

Those silvery curls, those lustrous eyes, 
That deep regard, so kind and wise. 
The habit quaint, the kindling smile 
Seen in our frigid streets erewhile. 

All these are lost, but not the dreams 
With which his varied canvas gleams, 
We lose not, with life's fleeting span, 
The measure of the perfect man. 

With reverence, on the tinted walls 
That bear his trace, the sunlight falls; 
The women that his fancy framed 
Are never doubted, never shamed. 



WASHINGTON ALLSTON 6i 

Where sits the wanton at his feast, 
The Prophet's warning heeding least, 
RecalHng thee, his heart shall tell 
How wild Belshazzar reigned, and fell. 

Trimountain, crown the Master's grave! 
Cherish the wondrous gifts he gave 
Who, called to other spheres away 
Bids yet his steadfast angels stay. 



ROBERT E. LEE 

READ AT THE RICHMOND CELEBRATION OF THE HUNDREDTH 
ANNIVERSARY OF GENERAL LEE'S BIRTH 

A GALLANT foeman in the fight, 
A brother when the fight was o'er, 

The hand that led the host with might 
The blessed torch of learning bore. ' 

No shriek of shell nor roll of drums, 
No challenge fierce, resounding far, 

When reconciling Wisdom comes 
To heal the cruel wounds of war. 

Thought may the minds of men divide, 
Love makes the hearts of nations one; 

And so, thy soldier grave beside. 
We honor thee, Virginia's son. 

January 19, 1907. 



62 



WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING 

WRITTEN FOR THE CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION OF HIS 
BIRTH, AT NEWPORT, R. I. 

I COME to-day a verse to build 

Which skill should match with arches fine, 

A task to set the workman's guild 

Whose strength shall stand for things divine. 

In this fair isle, by Nature blest, 

Where men for health and pleasure throng, 

I call a spirit from its rest, 

I summon back a soul with song. 

For God who gave this genial sky, 
The rapture of this mellow air. 
Did lend in happy days gone by 
A presence grand, an influence rare. 

Our beauteous seasons wax and wane, 
And bear us on to fate and death; 
But he shall bloom and bloom again 
In every generation's breath. 

Oh! fine and brave that subtle hand 
Which found the knots, so small and strong, 

63 



64 WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING 

By which belief and passion band 
To do divine and human wrong. 

He caught the echo of the wail 

Which once from Calvary's mountain rolled, 

When felt the Love that cannot fail 

The spite of superstition old. 

His voice took up the trumpet blast 
Which Hope's glad resurrection blew, 
When out of mystic shadow passed 
The glory that the Master knew. 

Oh! deep of heart, oh! true of thought! 
The temper of thy perfect steel 
In Heaven's high armory was wrought. 
The strength of Justice to reveal. 

The Negro in the Southern wild 
Had cause to bless thy champion name; 
The Northern freeman for his child 
Thy gracious heritage doth claim. 

The faith that maketh Woman free 
For humankind to do and dare, 
The peace that dwells with liberty 
Was in thy teaching and thy prayer. 



WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING 65 

Here the foundation stone we lay 
Of some fine fabric that shall rise 
To image to a later day 
Thee, greatly good, and purely wise. 

When God vouchsafes his greatest gift, 
The Prophet, crown of all desire, 
Let us our .duteous emblem lift, 
Let us endeavor and aspire. 

So shall the work we strive to rear 
Be crowned with blessing in our sight; 
And, like the life we honor here, 
Reflect the everlasting light. 

1880. 



MARGARET FULLER 

WRITTEN FOR HER CENTENARY 

Fate dropt our Margaret 
Into the bitter sea, 
A pearl in golden splendor set 
For spirit majesty. 

Love wore her on his hand 
And Friendship in her heart, 
She glistened in the jeweled band 
Of poesy and Art. 

Oh ! oft the diver brings 
His treasure from the deep, 
And out of deadly danger wrings 
The gems that monarchs keep. 

But never gift so fair 

His venturous task repaid, 

Not emblems rich that Champions wear 

At Holytide displayed. 

Th' Egyptian's gem of light 
Flashed in the gleaming wine, 
66 



MARGARET FULLER 67 

A regal jewel stoFn from sight 
To grace a pomp divine. 

So He who laid our Pearl 
Deep in the sapphire sea 
Keeps her rare essence in the cup 
Of immortality. 



1909. 



ARCHBISHOP WILLIAMS'S JUBILEE 

Fifty years of faithful service, 

Saintly record and renown; 
Better than the poet's laurels, 

He shall wear the patriarch's crown. 

Let the generations gather, 

Young and old their tributes blend, 

For the orphan calls him father. 
And the suffering call him friend. 

In the name of God most holy 
Did this champion take the field; 

For the love of Christ the lowly 
Has he ministered and healed. 

Benedictions at the altar 
Hath he called on many a head; 

It is now your turn to bless him 
Who has given you heavenly bread. 

Let the generations gather! 

Thanks and prayers to Heaven ascend, 
To the everlasting Father, 

For the Master, Teacher, Friend! 

1895. 

68 



JAMES A. GARFIELD 

Our sorrow sends its shadow round the earth. 
So brave, so true! A hero from his birth! 
The plumes of Empire moult, in mourning draped, 
The lightning's message by our tears is shaped. 

Life's vanities that blossom for an hour 
Heap on his funeral car their fleeting flower. 
Commerce forsakes her temples, blind and dim, 
And pours her tardy gold to homage him. 

The notes of grief to age familiar grow 
Before the sad privations all must know; 
But the majestic cadence which we hear 
To-day, is new in either hemisphere. 

What crown is this, high hung and hard to reach, 
Whose glory so outshines our laboring speech ? 
The crown of Honor, pure and unbetrayed ; 
He wins the spurs who bears the knightly aid. 

1881. 



69 



JOHN G. WHITTIER 

The chrism of Christ was on his brow, 
The sword of Paul within his hand, 
As pledged by a Crusader's vow 
He met the evil of the land. 

Yet with his armed presence went 
His poet song, of love inspired, 
And his rebukes, of stern intent. 
With charity divine were fired. 

"What ho! thou Quaker grim, come down 1 
The mob is clamoring for thy blood! " 
I do not fear the Martyr's crown 
Since Truth must conquer, by the rood. 

"How shouldst thou go, thou man of Peace, 
Where Tyranny's red banners wave ? '* 
Until the bitter feud shall cease, 
I take my stand beside the slave. 

So Michael, with a brow of Heaven, 
Trod the brute Satan underneath; 
So to each loyal soul is given 
The glory of Faith's civic wreath, 

70 



JOHN G. WHITTIER 71 

And thou wert crowned, when crowned were 
Thy heart's high wishes for thy kind, 
When spirits breathed a purer air, 
And light prevailed o'er passions blind. 

Thy linked lustres sped away, 
Bringing the heavenly hope more near, 
While God's great order of our day 
Grew to thy earnest sight more clear. 

Numbers were gathered in thy train, 
The captive helped in sorest need; 
And souls that knew a subtler chain, 
From iron superstition freed. 

The song of labor thou mad'st sweet, 
Setting thy tent on ocean beach; 
When snow-bound were thy sober feet, 
Thy mind essayed her eagle reach. 

How shall we yield thee ? Time doth rob 
The very oracles divine. 
The heart of love forgets to throb. 
Silent and empty is the shrine. 

Yet was it burial when men laid 
In earth thy reverend fold of dust? 
Was thy life ended when they prayed 
Above thy grave in trembling trust ? 



72 JOHN G. WHITTIER 

Nay, with the spirit of thine age 
Mingles the breath that did suspire; 
And spread on many a radiant page 
Abides the wealth of thy desire. 

And Freedom seated on her rock 
Above the wrecks of Fate o'erthrown, 
Thy record holds beyond the shock 
Of change, her treasure, and our own. 

1892. 



WHITTIER 

READ AT THE CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION AT HAVERHILL, 
DECEMBER 17, I907 

A SPIRIT in our midst abode, 
A champion, risking life and limb, 
With firm intent to bear the load 
That Fate had meted cut to him: 

The burthen of an evil time 

That grieved men's souls with forfeit pledge ; 

The task, t' assail a nation's crime 

With weapon of celestial edge. 

For still a son of Peace was he, 
Servant and master of the lyre ; 
All bloodless must his warfare be. 
Launched all in love his bolts of fire. 

Such victories are given to song 
As slaughter never may achieve, 
W^hen the rapt soul is wooed from wrong 
Some heavenly lesson to receive. 

I saw him when the locks that crown 
Fair youth were heaped above his brow; 

73 



74 WHITTIER 

His eyes like lustrous jewels shone, 
The trifler's world they did not know. 

Feathered as from an angel's wing 
The arrows of his quiver flew; 
A thrill of sorrow they might bring, 
A wound, and yet a balsam too. 

Soon War's wild music filled the land, 
And fields of fight were won and lost, 
When grieving Conscience made her stand 
To pay the debt of deadly cost. 

And many were the days of dole 
Before the bitter strife could cease. 
But ever that anointed soul 
Dwelt in its citadel of Peace. 

Thence, like an anthem rising clear, 
Rang out the poet's helpful word; 
Melodious messages of cheer 
Above the battle din were heard. 

And years of labor came and went, 
But ere he passed the bound of Fate 
His days were crowned with high content; 
He saw his land regenerate. 



WHITTIER 75 

Methought that from the Poet's grave 
A whisper thrilled the ear, that said: 
'' Surrender not his music brave, 
For while it lives, he is not dead. 

*And when, with other sounds of earth 
Shall pass the beauty of his rhyme. 
Eternity shall keep the worth 
Lost from the treasury of Time." 



ABBY WILLIAMS MAY 

Her feet were ever ready, 
Her hand was ever steady; 

The onward sweep 

Of purpose deep 
Disclosed no flaw nor eddy. 

On many an errand went she, 
To many a trouble bent she, 

Such helpful thought, 

Such counsel brought, 
The bloom of youth thus spent she. 

A maiden of high feature, 
Of good and glorious nature, 

Dear to His heart 

Who did impart 
Such grace unto His creature. 

So may sweet peace betide her 
Whose holy laws did guide her, 

And all that's blest 

In God's dear rest 
Be with her and beside her. 



76 



FOR THE FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY OF 
JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE 

APRIL 4, i860 

A WEIGHT I bear, and a task I share, 

Of glad and generous sympathy. 
These loving hearts have all their parts. 

In the spring-song I must echo thee. 

Each eloquent soul would keep control 

Of the Poet's slender gift of words. 
As an instrument that should give consent 

To the waiting music of many birds. 

But the wings of love that bear above, 
Shall help me to bring my burthen near; 

And my stammering tongue, leaving half unsung, 
Can tell how we prize thee. Master dear. 

For these fifty years we thank with tears 
The tender hand that hath counted them; 

And we thank again for those that remain 
Still veiled in God's unseen diadem. 

The roses flung, and the incense swung, 
Are for youth's bright matins and manhood's 
prime; 

77 



78 JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE 

But the tapers are lit for the patient feet 
That follow the pensive vesper chime. 

Within thy fold, safe as of old, 

Still gather us each bright Sabbath morn; 
Call home thy sheep, that wander and weep, 

Comfort the weary and briar-worn. 

That years a score may sweep us o'er. 
Walking yet serene the heavenward way, 

A loving band, that the shepherd's hand 
Brings near the bounds of the brighter day. 

Till transfigured quite, in its holy light, 
We hear, still clinging close to thee: 

"Father, I come to my heavenly home, 
With the children thou hast given me." 



FOR THE SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY 
OF JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE 

Who knocks ? Pass on, I pray : 

Thou hast mistook the way. 
All that I had I gave in days of yore. 

If that thy need be great, 

Since Age doth me abate. 
Ask jocund Youth to help thee from his store. 

Yet stay. For whom the feast ? 

" For one to whom the least 
Of what we owe is such fond gratitude 

As from the dumb might wring 

Attempted uttering, 
And from thy lips the breath of song renewed." 

Then shall my heart indite 

Whate'er my hand can write 
From out the wasted treasure of my time. 

For, silent here to sit, 

And fear my failing wit. 
My soul should count it very near a crime. 

'T was thy persuasive thought 
My errant fancy caught 
When height of wisdom matched not length of years; 

79 



8o JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE 

When still, with airy schemes, 
And many-featured dreams,- 
I wrought at childish tasks with childish tears. 

If ever to the good 

Of holy womanhood 
Mine own with saintlier spirits did aspire, 

Where was the lesson writ. 

My slumberous sense to hit, 
As by thy hand, in characters of fire ? 

For such a glittering net 

Doth human souls beset. 
That from its bonds they have no power to flee, 

Till smites that sword of truth 

Which owes no error ruth, 
And by pain's costly ransom they are free. 

'T were idle in this verse 

The reasons to rehearse 
For which we crown to-day thy front beloved. 

Thou didst thy life impart 

With such a gracious art, 
We scarcely knew the spell by which we moved. 

What nuptials hast thou blest ! 
What dear ones laid to rest ! 
What infants welcomed with the holy sign ! 



JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE 8i 

Life's hospitality 
Was so akin to thee, 
That half of all our good and ill was thine. 

In dark, perplexing days, 

When sorrow silenced praise. 
We saw thy light above the vapors dim, 

In battle's din and shout 

Thy clarion blast rang out: 
"The victory is God's, we follow Him." 

Thy life has had, like ours. 

Its sunshine and its showers, 
Has reached the heights of joy, the depths of grief; 

But richer hath it been 

By all the gifts serene 
That make the leader, brother, friend, and chief. 

Bring then the palm and vine, 

Roses with lilies twine, 
And let us image in our offered wreath 

The life enriched with toil. 

The consecrating oil. 
And love that fears not time, and knows not death. 



JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE 

READ AT THE ONE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY OF HIS BIRTH, 
CHURCH OF THE DISCIPLES, BOSTON, APRIL 3, I910 

Richer gift can no man give 
Than he doth from God receive. 
We in greatness would have pleasure, 
But we must accept our measure. 
Let us question, then, the grave, 
Querying what the Master gave. 
Whom, in his immortal state, 
Grateful love would celebrate. 

Only human life was his, 
With its thin-worn mysteries. 
Shall we not describe him, "Man, 
Built to last a little span, 
Like our Earth, his dwelling-place, 
Swung aloft, 'twixt Time and Space, 
Tuned for ecstasy and pain, 
Ever prompted to attain 
For the blessing or the curse 
That Eternities rehearse?" 
Lifting from the Past its veil, 
What of his does now avail ? 
82 



JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE 83 

Just a mirror in his breast 
That revealed a heavenly guest, 
And the love that made us free 
Of the same high company. 
These he brought us, these he left 
When we were of him bereft. 

He was resolute and bright, 

Was a hero in the fight, 

Trained his gifts of speech and song 

Holy lessons to prolong, 

Made the great Apostle's dream 

Present still and potent seem. 

Human fortunes we must share. 
Must endeavor, must forbear; 
Days of weakness, nights of pain, 
Try, and turn, and try again; 
But Golconda has no mine 
Could that legacy outshine. 
Did we keep, through good and ill, 
James Freeman's angel with us still. 



LUCY STONE 

Full of honors and of years, 

Lies our friend at rest, 
Passing from earth's hopes and fears 

To the ever Blest. 

One of the anointed few 
Touched with special grace 

For a life whose service true 
Should redeem the race. 

Where is that persuasive tone 

Welcome in our ears? 
Still I hear it, sounding on, 

Through the golden spheres. 

When we raise our battle cry 

For the holy Right, 
We shall feel her drawing nigh 

With a spirit's might. 

As the veil of flesh doth part, 

We behold her rise. 
Crowned with majesty of heart: 

There true queendom lies. 

1893. 

84 



IN MEMORIAM OTTO DRESEL 

Handel's largo ^ 

On every shining stair an angel stood, 

And to our dear one said, "Walk higher, friend! " 

Till, rapt from earth, in a celestial mood. 

He passed from sight to blessings without end; 

And where his feet had trod, a radiant flood 
His lofty message of content did send. 

Beethoven's funeral march ^ 

The heavy steps that 'neath new burdens tread, 

The heavy hearts that wait upon the dead, 

The struggling thoughts that single out, through 

tears. 
The happy memories of bygone years, 
And on the deaf and silent presence call: 
O friend belov'd! O master! is this all? 
But as the cadence moves, the song-flowers fling 

1 Suggested by Mr. Loeffler's rendering of the " Largo " at a 
concert especially dedicated to the memory of Otto Dresel, musi- 
cian and critic, Boston Music Hall, October ii, 1890. 

2 The funeral march from Beethoven's "Eroica" made part of 
the programme at this concert. 

85 



86 IN MEMORIAM OTTO DRESEL 

To us the promise of eternal spring, 

Love that survives the wreck of its delight, 

And goes, torch-bearing, into darksome night. 

Trumpet and drum have marked the victor's way. 

The seraph voices now their legend say : 

''O loving friends! refrain your waiting fond; 

The gates are passed, and heaven is bright beyond." 



TO MARYi 

Thou gracious atom, verging to decay, 
What wert thou in the moment of thy stay ? 
The flowers in thy faded hands that lie 
More briefly than thyself scarce bloom and die. 
How was it when swift feet thy beauty bore, 
And Life's warm ripple sunned thy marble o'er? 

A slender maiden, captured by a kiss. 
Wed at the altar for a three years' bhss. 
No longer space my life's indenture gave 
From Juhet's courtship to Ophelia's grave. 
The modest helper of heroic art. 
The Heaven-bound anchor of a sinking heart. 

Ask him who wooed me, earliest and last. 
What was my oflSce in Love's sacred past ? 
What was she, here in silken shell empearled 
But my life's life, the comfort of the world ? 

1 Written after attending the funeral of Mary Devlin Booth, wife 
of Edwin Booth. 



87 



PHILLIPS BROOKS 

The Christ within the Christ thy heart doth feel, 

Without, the Christ-beloved humanity; 

And so thy simple, fluent words reveal 

What flesh and blood have not made known to thee. 

As free of evil dost thou wander o'er 
This thorny, blooming earth, as if she ne'er 
The seeds of sin in her hot bosom bore, 
But only treasures consecrate and rare. 

Thou treadest fearlessly where Youth and Age 
Their pitfalls find, sore wondering at the same; 
All doors are open to thy summons sage. 
Ice barriers melt before thy touch of flame. 

Give us thy secret. Do not flit from earth 
Burying the knowledge that hath made thee wise. 
Or, if we cannot reach its priceless worth, 
Redeem us in the judgment of the skies! 



A HEART OFFERING TO THE DEAD 
BISHOP 

PHILLIPS BROOKS 

Labor cease! 
Rest and peace 
O'er thy silent bed; 
Lilies sweet 
At thy feet, 
Lilies at thy head. 

Organ boom 

In the gloom 

Of the darkened shrine; 

Hearts whose grief 

Seek relief 

From the source divine. 

Happy years 
Seen thro' tears, 
When he led you all. 
In the fields 
The gospel yields 
With a shepherd's call. 
89 



90 THE DEAD BISHOP 

Where he trod, 
Love of God 
Blossomed into lights 
Form and hue 
Goodlier grew 
In the eternal light. 

Noblest friend, 

Who shall end 

All thy tender praise ? 

Souls alift 

With thy shrift 

Seeking better ways. 

Oh! that rhyme 
Could but divine 
Something of his worth; 
Could upbuild 
What God willed 
Should be dear on earth] 

Keep the word 
You have heard 
As a fruitful seed; 
In the rest 
Of Heaven's best. 
That shall be his meed. 
January 25, 1893. 



MY FIRST THOUGHT ON HEARING 
OF BROWNING'S DEATH 

Carve ye two pillows of marble stone 
Where Westminster arches stand lofty and lone. 
Trace on them two garlands of laurel fair, 
And where wedded sovereigns sculptured are, 
Make a bed in the holiest aisle, 
Where storied windows may glow and smile, 
And anthems sing for the Royal Dead, 
Sovereigns of song, forever wed. 

Fruitful of life were those nuptials rare; 
A long train follows the kingly pair, 
Over the continents, over the seas. 
Far as sunrise can follow the breeze, 
Far as sunlight in the sky 
Makes human hearts leap glad and high. 
Spirits of women, spirits of men. 
Spirits in joy and spirits in pain. 
Whether for merriment, music, or dole. 
Follow the tread of each royal soul. 

Open your gates, Westminster high ! 
Where should the minstrel sovereigns lie ? 

91 



92 BROWNING'S DEATH 

Walk at their funeral, woman lone, 

They have thrilled at your grief and moan. 

Wits of all ages, counsellors, kings! 

Your thoughts to them were familiar things. 

Bane of men's evilness, virtue sublime. 

Beauties of childhood, gathered in rhyme. 

With this sad pageant their ministry ends. 

These were your guardians, these were your friends ! 

Who shall precede you with dutiful feet ? 

Who shall intone for you melodies sweet? 

No one inherits your magical song 

That to all ages, all climes doth belong. 

Great ones salute you from out the dim past, 

Bards of the centuries, fashioned to last. 

Homer and Dante and Shakespeare may say: 

Souls of our temper are with us to-day. 

[N. B. These lines were scrawled, almost illegibly, 
in the Pullman, on my way, I think, to Fresno, Cal. 

Hearing that Browning had died in Venice, the fol- 
lowing lines came to me, and were scribbled in like 
manner, before seeing any account of the procession 
which they in a manner prefigure.] 

Methought I saw our poet's funeral pass 
Like a mysterious vision in a glass. 
Hearsed in a gondola his ashes lay. 
While smiled on him the bright Venetian day, 



BROWNING'S DEATH 93 

And silence waited on the bargeman's oar, 
Listening for glorious song that comes no more. 

The ancient palaces, so primly white, 
Did seem to have their sorrow in the sight; 
While ''in a balcony" lovers and Queen 
Persist in acting out their mimic scene, 
Scarce heeding when the poet's dust floats by, 
Except to say: "Die thou — we need not die." 
The barks fly past, for pleasure, profit, sin. 
Urged by some eager hand their goal to win. 
For haste thy rowers' muscles are not strained. 
No need to hurry now — thou hast attained. 
But in thy track a flight of loosened doves. 
Other than those thy Venice feeds and loves, 
Make plaintive music with their tender call. 
Who are ye then, ye creatures slight and small ? 
What place in this sad festival have ye ? 
"We're the song-spirits that his verse did free. 
The earth shall hide his dust, for which you grieve, 
But in his song a better earth shall live." 



MICHAEL ANAGNOS 

Vainly we listen for his tread, 
Returning from a distant shore. 

Here, where his fruitful days were sped, 
The friend beloved is seen no more. 

Truly, it was a gracious gift 

That Greece vouchsafed us, when he came 
With buoyant step and heart alight 

To win an enviable fame. 

The oracles of Hellas old. 

The dream of glories yet to be 
Had taught his spirit, frank and bold, 

The price and worth of liberty. 

He entered where a champion crowned 
His noble conquests still pursued. 

For him the clarion blast did sound 
That stirred the elder Hero's blood. 

Where souls in shadows dim abode, 
Ungladdened by the light of day, 

His tutelary guidance showed 
The light of Truth's all conquering ray; 

94 



MICHAEL ANAGNOS 95 

For they should know the world so fair, 
Its record brave, its wondrous plan, 

And, though despoiled of Nature, share 
The great inheritance of man. 

Oh! friends who gather in the class 
The welcome word to hear and tell. 

Take with you, as you onward pass, 
The thought of him who loved you well. 

That love which doth all ills redeem. 
Which seals man's noblest promise true. 

The prophet's pledge, the poet's dream. 
Be that his legacy to you. 

1906. 



MARY A. LIVERMORE 

The darkening of a brow belov'd, 
The silence of a voice of cheer 
That roused, reminded and reproved 
For many a day, in many a year. 

She stood beside the beds of pain 
Where fainting soldiers scarce drew breath; 
She won them back to life again. 
Or smiled away the pangs of death. 

When Duty bade the woman speak, 
How bravely did she heed the call ! 
With presence resolute, yet meek, 
She graced the temple and the hall. 

Three decades of laborious years, 
Their holiday, the light of home; 
Their record in the past appears, 
Their promise, in the days to come. 

For every earnest word she spake 
Shall in Time's furrows ripen seed; 
96 



MARY A. LIVERMORE 97 

The labor shall our world awake 

To take deep thought for human need. 

We meet in sorrow at her grave, 
Right lovingly we say farewell; 
All richer for the life she gave, 
All poorer for its broken spell. 
1905. 



WORDSWORTH 

Bark of the unseen haven, 

Mind of unearthly mood, 
Like to the prophet's raven. 

Thou bringest me heavenly food; 
Or like some mild dove winging 

Its way from cloudless skies, 
Celestial odors bringing. 
And in its glad soul singing 

The songs of paradise. 

Surely thou hast been nearer 

The bounds of day and night — 
Thy vision has been clearer, 

And loftier thy flight, 
And thou to God art dearer 

Than many men of might. 
Speak! for to thee we listen 

As never to bard before. 
And faded eyes shall glisten 

That thought to be bright no more. 

Oh, tell us of yonder heaven, 
And the world that lies within; 
98 



WORDSWORTH 99 

Tell of the happy spirits 

To whom we are near of kin; 
Tell of the songs of rapture, 

Of the stars that never set; 
Do the angels call us brothers — 

Does our Father love us yet ? 

Speak, for our souls are thirsting 

For the light of righteousness; 
Speak, for our bosoms are bursting 

With a desolate loneliness; 
Our hearts are worn and weary, 

Our robes are travel-soiled — 
For through a desert dreary 

Our wandering feet have toiled. 

Those to whom life looks brighter 

May ask an earthlier strain: 
A gayer spell and a lighter 

Shall hold them in its chain; 
But to those who have drunk deepest 

Of the cup of joy and grief, 
The tuneful tears thou weepest 

Do minister relief. 

Speak, for the earth is throbbing ■ 

With a wild sense of pain ; 
The wintry winds are sobbing 

The requiem of the slain; 



loo WORDSWORTH 

Dimly our lamps are burning, 

And gladly we list to thee, 
With a strange and mystic yearning 

Toward the home where we would be: 
Turn from the rhyme of weary Time, 

And sing of Eternity! 

Tell of the sacred mountains 

Where prophets in prayer have kneeled; 
Tell of the glorious fountains 

That soon shall be unsealed; 
Tell of the quiet regions 

Where those we love are fled; 
Tell of the angel legions 

That guard the blessed dead ! 

Tell of the sea of glass. 

And of the icy river; 
To those who its waves must pass 

Thy message of love deliver. 
Strike, strike thy harp of many lays, 

And we will join the song of praise 
To Him that sitteth upon the throne 

Of life and love forever. 

Written many years ago. 



LEONARD MONTEFIORE 

By a way of pain and fire 
Laid across thy heart's desire, 
Thou hast swift arrival where 
Ends for thee all earthly care. 

From the dismal darkened room, 
Where thou cam'st in manhood's bloom, 
Where thy vigils of distress 
Faded into nothingness. 
Men a lifeless burthen carry 
For a voyage that may not tarry. 

Thou in noble house wert bred, 
Wisdom stood thy youth in stead, 
Features of an ancient race 
Looked in beauty from thy face. 
'T was thy early wont to sit 
With the men of lofty wit, 
Hear the counsels that outshine 
Ruby gem and ruby wine. 

Wail of kindred o'er the sea 
Wakes our sorrowing sympathy, 
And the hospitable land 
That would take thee by the hand 

lOI 



I02 LEONARD MONTEFIORE 

Sadly yields thee to the wave 
That doth bar thy island grave. 

In this loss, so sad and cold, 
Comfort we would still behold, 
And, in this divorce of death, 
Look beyond the failing breath. 
For the doors of human pride 
And illusion, opening wide, 
Loose thee from this fabled scene. 
To the steadfast life serene. 
Prophet of the ancient psalm 
Usher thee to holy calm. 
On the heights where Moses trod 
May thy soul commune with God. 

Snows of age shall never rest 
Heavy on thy manly crest. 
Thro' no waning nor decay 
Doth thy swift soul wing its way. 
All the promise that we knew 
Shall remain forever true. 
And the gift that we surrender 
With a spasm dear and tender 
Goes to hands that never waste 
What we give with grief and haste. 
Till the Giver gives again 
Life for death, and joy for pain. 



FOUND IN ENVELOPE MARKED 

THE LOST POEM 

1907 

Master that dwell'st in peace serene, 
Thrice happy soul, that ours hast been, 
We turn to thee in this fair scene; 

As birds that pipe around a cage 
Seek its loved inmate to engage 
In the sweet war that singers wage. 

But thou from out the golden wires 
Hast passed, beyond the sunset fires, 
To enter where our thought aspires. 

Well we recall the falhng snows. 
The sad day darkening to its close 
That saw thee folded in repose. 

And as they led thy funeral train 
Fair rhymes, the children of thy brain, 
Did follow thee with hushed refrain. 

In marble shall men set thy name. 
Give lavish measure to thy claim 
For dear remembrance and high fame. 
103 



FREDERIC LAWRENCE KNOWLES 

A GENTLE presence is removed, 
The face and form of one beloved. 
He in our revels bore his part, 
He was a brother of the heart. 

Before his gracious youth could pass 
Its vision vanished from the glass. 
The hand that for high merit strove 
Returns no more the clasp of love. 

But ere he passed, the sacred bays 
Lent their deep meaning to his ways; 
His glowing strophes did resound. 
He lived and died, a poet crowned, 
Happy to lisp with parting breath 
A music that may challenge Death. 



104 



POEMS OF SENTIMENT 
AND REFLECTION 



FROM MY NURSERY 

FORTY-SIX YEARS AGO 

When I was a little child, 
Said my passionate nurse, and wild: 
"Wash you, children, clean and white; 
God may call you any night." 

Close my tender brother clung, 
While I said with doubtful tongue: 
"No, we cannot die so soon; 
For you told, the other noon, 

Of those months in order fine 
That should make the earth divine. 
I 've not seen, scarce five years old, 
Months like those of which you told." 

Softly, then, the woman's hand 
Loosed my frock from silken band, 
Tender smoothed the fiery head, 
Often shamed for ringlets red. 
Somewhat gently did she say, 
"Child, those months are every day." 
107 



io8 FROM MY NURSERY 

Still, methinks, I wait in fear, 
For that wonder-glorious year — 
For a spring without a storm, 
Summer honey-dewed and warm, 
Autumn of robuster strength, 
Winter piled in crystal length. 

I will wash me clean and white; 
God may call me any night. 
I must tell him when I go 
His great year is yet to know — 
Year when workings of the race 
Shall match Creation's dial face; 
Each hour be born of music's chime, 
And Truth eternal told in Time.- 



ROUGE GAGNE 

The wheel is turned, the cards are laid; 
The circle 's drawn, the bets are made : 
I stake my gold upon the red. 

The rubies of the bosom mine, 
The river of life, so swift divine, 
In red all radiantly shine. 

Upon the cards, like gouts of blood, 
Lie dinted hearts, and diamonds good, 
The red for faith and hardihood. 

In red the sacred blushes start 
On errand from a virgin heart, 
To win its glorious counterpart. 

The rose that makes the summer fair. 
The velvet robe that sovereigns wear, 
The red revealment could not spare. 

And men who conquer deadly odds 
By fields of ice, and raging floods. 
Take the red passion from the gods, 
log 



no ROUGE GAGNE 

Now Love is red, and Wisdom pale, 
But human hearts are faint and frail 
Till Love meets Love, and bids it hail. 

I see the chasm, yawning dread: 
I see the flaming arch o'erhead: 
I stake my life upon the red. 



THE OPEN DOOR 

The Master said, " I am the Door. 

The world is dark with doubt and sin, 
Hidden the good that men implore, 

But after me ye enter in. 

^' The ancient barriers I disown, 

The distant and the dark control, 
Who with your onward steps have thrown 
God's sunshine open to the soul." 



Another mystic door I know, 
The entrance to this world of ours, 

And she who opens it bears low 
A wondrous weight of pains and powers. 

O men that plan the stately pile, 

Where law and learning hold their sway. 

And drive with subterfuge and wile 
Your mothers from the door away, — 

Undo the doors ! In God's high noon 
An equal heritage have we; 
III 



112 THE OPEN DOOR 

Your cold exclusion 's out of tune 
With Nature's hospitality. 

See where the word of freedom lives 
To bridge the gulf of ages o'er; 

Learn how the Eternal Giver gives, 
And keep with Christ the open door ! 



RAFAEL'S ST. CECILIA 

Methinks a wondrous harmony 
Doth through the ether fall; 
My heart, attuned to heavenly joy, 
Makes answer to its call. 

A breath divine is in this sky, 
So limpid and so blue; 
A radiance, streaming from on high. 
Makes all things fair and new. 

The mighty rhythm of the spheres 
But echoes His behest 
Who bids Devotion build her shrine 
Deep in the faithful breast. 

The music welcomes low and sweet 
The Presence drawing nigh; 
Sing, brothers, sing; with measure meet 
Salute Heaven's majesty! 



"3 



A SCRAP > 

Methinks my friends grow beauteous in my sight, 
As the years make their havoc of sweet things; 
Like the intenser glory of the light 
When the sad bird of Autumn sits and sings. 

Ah! woe is me! ah! Memory, 
Be cheerful, thanking God for things that be. 

^ I think this dates as far back as 1857. I copy it in 1882.' 



114 



A DREAM OF THE HEARTHSTONE 

A FIGURE by my fireside stayed, 
Plain was her garb, and veiled her face; 
A presence mystical she made, 
Nor changed her attitude, nor place. 

Did I neglect my household ways 
For pleasure, wrought of pen or book ? 
She sighed a murmur of dispraise. 
At which, methought, the rafters shook. 

Me young Delight did often win 
My patient limits to outgo. 
Thereafter, when I entered in 
That shrouded guest did warning show. 

The snows of Age to chill me fell 
(Where many a gracious mate lay dead). 
And moved my heart to break the spell 
By that ungracious phantom laid. 

"Now, who art thou that didst not smile 
When I my maddest jest devised ? 
Who art thou, stark and grim the while 
That men my time and measure prized ? " 



ii6 A DREAM OF THE HEARTHSTONE 

Without her pilgrim staff she rose, 
Her weeds of darkness cast aside; 
More dazzling than Olympian snows 
The beauty that those weeds did hide. 

Most like a solemn symphony 
That lifts the heart from lowly things, 
The voice with which she spake to me 
Did loose contrition at its springs. 

"Oh Duty! Visitor divine, 
Take all the wealth my house affords, 
But make thy holy methods mine; 
Speak to me thy surpassing words ! 

" Neglected once and undiscerned, 
I pour my homage at thy feet. 
Till I thy sacred law have learned 
Nor joy, nor life can be complete." 



FLOWERS 

The flowers are sure his teachers 
Who learns their varied speech, 
And wondrous are the sermons 
The friendly blossoms preach. 

The Winter bids them vanish; 
They close their friendly eyes, 
And wait the joyous sentence 
When Spring shall bid them rise. 

They say, ''Look up to heaven 
With ever-radiant face, 
Transmute earth's waste and rubbish 
To purity and grace. 

" Our roots may know dark secrets, 
But these we do not tell; 
When peevish zephyr questions, 
We answer, 'AH is well.' 

" Whether we deck the wedding 
Or garland o'er the bier, 
Comes still the steadfast message: 
The end of all 's not here. 
117 



ii8 FLOWERS 

" Pursue the humble wisdom 
Wherewith God makes us wise, 
And answer back his sentence 
With hope that never dies." 



A SNAP SHOT 

Who is this sprite so dainty, 
At odds with grisly Death ? 
His struggles nought avail him, 
The Conqueror conquereth. 

"Oh! I am one whose heeding 
Was all of delights most high; 
Time's treasures fitly feeding 
My delicate sense and eye." 

But say, didst thou feed others ? 
"My lovers, and my friends." 
And never a dusty beggar ? ; 
Then here thy banquet ends! 



119 



A LEGEND OF BRITTANY 

In Carnac's field a silent army stands, 
Stands without feet and signals without hands; 
No human feature crowns their upright form; 
Nor human impulse their stern height doth warm. 

Cornely, holy man, remembered here, 
To every horned beast a guardian dear, 
Was one day followed by a heathen band, 
Who to ensnare his sacred life had planned. 

Seaward he fled, but when the strand he neared. 
Nor helpful skiff, nor friendly sail appeared. 
Then in his hearing some one seemed to say: 
"Thou man of God, wherefore dost flee away? 
Stand fast and show on this appointed spot. 
The puissance which thy heathen foe have not." 

Then turned Cornely, then erect he stood. 
And held on high the symbol of the Rood, 
While from the skies a voice said audibly: 
*' Your hearts are stone, stone let your bodies be." 

1 20 



A LEGEND OF BRITTANY 121 

So, carved in granite, did their features fade, 
Of each stark form a monument was made ; 
There, in stern drill, they wait tlie Judgment day, 
When the Saint's prayers may melt their bonds 
away. 



THE ECHO 

DREAMED IN A SOLITARY EVENING, MARCH 4, I905. 

God gave the echo, that no beauteous sound 
Should e'er without its counterpart be found. 
So, where angelic melody has birth. 
It wakes its partner ere it flits from earth. 

A monarch wears upon his diadem 
The rainbow, prisoned in an opal gem. 
Ev'n so, all glories of sea and sky 
Captive in Man's imagination He. 

With them the boundless aeons of the past. 
And future dim that should forever last. 
So, one may think our Lord his crown doth make 
Of such soul gems, and wears them for our sake. 



122 



AMONG MY TREES 

Hail, thou hundred-handed pine, 
Swaying with a grace divine, 
Light and heat and air receiving, 
Beauty and soft fragrance giving. 

Teach us music, songful birds. 
With your seconds and your thirds; 
Melodies intangible, 
From past times infrangible; 
You could tell us if you dared, 
If you only knew we cared; 

Handing down the mystery 
Of timeless human history 
That unwritten never was, 
Never told its end or cause. 



123 



ALL SAINTS 

My mind reviews the story 

Of the old primeval glory: 

Of Abram, whom on Midian's plain 

God heard, and answered to again; 

Of Moses from the sweep of Nile 

Saved by a sister's tender wile; 

The captains and the seers of old, 
Whom God's anointing made so bold; 
The pure faith- jewel handed down 

Till cross and scourging brought its crown. 

» 

Kindred to these, tho' in time apart, 
The loves ancestral of my heart, 
The ancient grandsire, parents sage, 
My fair son, nip't in tender age. 
And one, now lying still and lone, 
A daughter, to a sister grown. 
Such memories gild, with glowing ray, 
The passage of this All Saints' Day. 

1885. 



124 



A WAGE-EARNER 

They were twining wreaths of laurel 
For many an honored head, 

And spreading cloth of crimson 
For princely feet to tread, 

And singing in loud triumph 

The paean of the hour, 
The joy of recent conquest, 

The victor's praise and power; 

When one came by heart- weary 
With service of the day: 
"From dawn to dusk I've labored, 
Where do such have their pay ? '* 

Back of this gay assemblage, 

Unnoticed of the crowd, 
Leadeth a narrow passage 

Which darkling shadows shroud. 

It smells not of the laurel 
Nor shows the carpet fine; 

There shalt thou find the Master, 
And there receive his coin. 
125 



126 A WAGE-EARNER 

A penny of old fashion 

With marks of sweat and blood; 
Such Moses took in payment, 

And Christ, who blessed the rood. 

Clean hands of many a martyr 
Have held this symbol small, 

Bequeathing to the ages 
The value of their all. 

And fairer in the using 

Of centuries it grows; 
Among immortal treasures, 

Splendid and sole it shows. 

Be joyful in receiving 

From heavenly Lord and Friend 
What falsehood cannot gather 

And folly cannot spend. 

Mined from the heart of ages. 
Stamped with unerring skill. 

It heaven and earth can purchase, 
God's service, man's good-will. 



WICKED PATIENCE 

Sweet Christ, with flagellations brought 
To thine immortal martyrdom, 
Cancel the bitter treasons wrought 
By men who bid thy kingdom come. 

Their sinful blood we may not urge. 
While Mercy stays thy righteous hand; 
But take all ours, if that should purge 
The wicked patience of the land! 



127 



THE WORLD MESSENGER 

MARCH 26, 1905 

Who comes with tidings from afar? 
What says the peasant, what the Czar? 
In farthest East, where fearful strife 
Pours^Nation's blood for Nation's life ? 
How fare the armies madly matched ? 
What new conspiracies are hatched 
In that dark house where counsels lag 
While fierce Rebellion waves her flag ? 

Still does complacent Europe smirk 
At the pledged promise of the Turk ? 
As fruitless as their sympathies 
Who rail at his iniquities, 
But never yet have plucked up heart 
To act a valiant Champion's part ! 

On our own shores, what new surprise ? 
What forecast, both of fools and wise ? 
What covert heaping of the spoil ? 
What protest of hard-handed toil ? 
What Sunday sentences of good ? 
What Monday floating with the flood? 
128 



THE WORLD MESSENGER 129 

Questions like these, and many more 
Are answered at our very door. 

Who is it that thus daily reads 

The riddle of our human needs ? 

What giant with a million hands, 

With feet familiar in all lands, 

Tracks through this world the flight of Fame, 

Rehearsed to us for praise or blame ? 

Who is this Master-Servant? Guess. ^ 

What is it but The Daily Press! 



A NEW FLAGi 

We'll have a new flag, my brothers — we'll have 

a new flag, my boys! 
Since swords have been ground to ploughshares, 

and trumpets are turned to toys; 
We have had enough of the red stripe, the planet 

of war is set. 
And in the blue empyrean, the white steeds of peace 

are met. 

Their reins are of starry silver, their hoofs are of 

virgin gold, 
They carry our fates behind them, in a master's 

steady hold; 
The armies of retribution strode heavily to the sea. 
But the message of consolation shall winged and 

wafted be. 

We'll have the Christ on our banner, the hero of 
truth and toil ; 

Not a miser meting his treasure, not a victor count- 
ing his spoil; 

The Christ that to lords and peasants sent equal 
command and call, 

* Written soon after the close of the Civil War. 
130 



A NEW FLAG 131 

Who throned in the skiff or palace, Hope's master 
and Sorrow's thrall. 

We '11 measure the fields together where Labor was 
maimed and dumb; 

Where shadows wrought in the furrows, whose 
sunshine at last has come. 

Where the sense of the nation slumbered, in spirit- 
less sloth and shame, 

Till with flashing of arms and torches, the terrible 
bridegroom came. 

The forum shall stand for justice, and the temples 

shall stand for prayer 
Whose answer the arm may hasten, not cast on the 

viewless air ; 
Not crowded to distant heaven the humble and 

poor shall wait; 
For heaven shall be seen among us, the happy, 

immortal state. 

And we '11 build the gladsome schoolhouse, where 
small angels unawares 

Are trained at the desk of duty, or seated on 
studious chairs. 

And sowing that seed most sacred, in the young 
and teeming ground. 

We shall look for a precious harvest, a nation re- 
deemed and sound; 



132 A NEW FLAG 

We'll straiten the yoke of duty, and doctrine make 

one for all; 
Each may hope for and do his utmost, by his own 

worth stand or fall; 
We '11 not lift men for their features, nor lower them 

for their skin; 
But look to the great soul-Father, in whom we are 

all of kin. 

And why do we strive for riches, since all are in 

Thine possessed ? 
And why are we mad for honors, when true service 

honors best ? 
And why should we build up limits, dividing the 

land's fair face ? 
They are one — her brow and her bosom! They 

are one, her growth and her grace. 

So we'll have a new flag, my brothers! our stripes, 

we have felt them all; 
Our stars in the dusk of battle did mournfully 

pale and fall; 
Let us yield our claims and our quarrels for a 

compact of priceless worth; 
For the peace that Christ found in heaven, the 

peace that he left on earth. 



SONG OF THE HAREBELL 

AS I FOUND IT ON AN ALPINE SLOPE 

Spring is coming, 
Birds are humming, 
Streamlets skipping. 
Maidens tripping. 

Touch me slightly, 
Wave me lightly, 
Ding a ding, 
This is spring. 

This new-comer 
Men call summer, 
With a color 
Flashing fuller. 
With a splendor 
Fresh and tender. 

Touch me warmly. 
Uniformly, 
Simimer sings 
Of steadfast things. 
^33 



134 SONG OF THE HAREBELL 

Autumn 's here now, 
Leaves are sere now. 
Ice-chains forging, 
No more gorging 
Of the bee's throat, 
Of the wild goat. 

Ring a knell! 
Summer fell. 

See the summit! 
Winter from it 
Sends its hoary 
Glittering glory. 

Snow doth bind me, 
You'll not find me. 
Silence praises; 
God amazes. 



NIGHT THOUGHTS 



'T IS our sun's light that returns 
Where flame-cinctured Saturn burns. 

'T is our Holy One whose grace 
Shines in each illumined face. 

Lavish Noon lies all abroad, 
Midnight doth her treasures hoard. 

Thro' close darkness oft is won 
Highest light of soul or sun. 

n 

Night her starry gems doth hoard, 
Day's delights are freely poured, 
Yet is beautiful the play 
Of succeeding Night and Day, 
Sun and shadow, work and rest. 
And the star-lamps for God's guest. 



135 



TO AN INFANT OF DAYS 

No foot hast thou for frolic or for speed, 

No brain to plan for conquest or for need; 

No hand to work Man's miracles of skill, 

Nor wise discernment, parting good from ill. 

Yet none can say how high thy strength shall lift, 

How wondrous and beneficent thy gift. 

O grant, mysterious Powers, that this may prove 

A riddle of fair omen, writ in love! 



136 



HUMANITY! 

Methought a moment that I stood 
Where hung the Christ upon the Cross, 
Just when mankind had writ in blood 
The record of its dearest loss. 

The bitter drink men offered him 
His kingly gesture did decline, 
And my heart sought, in musing dim, 
Some cordial for those lips divine. 

When lo ! a cup of purest gold 

My trembling fingers did uphold; 

Within it glowed a wine as red 

As hearts, not grapes, its drops had shed. 

Drink deep, my Christ, I offer thee 

The ransom of Humanity. 

Marked, " Writ some time this summer, 1905, at Oak Glen." 



137 



BUILDING 

I SAT before Fate's ebbing tide 

With my life's buildings near at hand, 

And thought, how planned in marble pride 

Was that which crumbled in the sand. 

While the soul's Master-architect 

Held me to reason and reflect. 

*'0h! Master, I have wrought so ill 
Would heaven I had not wrought at all! 
So petty my devising skill, 
My measures so unjust and small." 

*'But didst thou build for God? " said He. 
"Then doth God's building stand for thee." 



138 



QUATRAINS 

I 

WouLDST thou on me but turn thy wondrous sight, 
My breast would be so flooded by thy light, 
The light whose language is immortal song, 
That I to all the ages should belong.* 

II 

I gave my son a palace, 
And a kingdom to control; 
The palace of his body. 
The kingdom of his soul. 

* July 25, 1908. The thought came to me that if God only looked 
upon me, I should become radiant, like a star. 



139 



IN MUSIC HALL I 

LOOKING DOWN UPON THE WHITE HEADS OF M\ 
CONTEMPORARIES 

Beneath what mound of snow 
Are hid my springtime roses ? 
How shall Remembrance know 
Where buried Hope reposes ? 

In what forgetful heart 
As in a cafion darkling, 
Slumbers the blissful art 
That set my heaven sparkling ? 

What sense shall never know, 
Soul shall remember; 
Roses beneath the snow, 
June in November. 

1 Written years ago. Found Nov. 29th, 1901, and here copied. 



140 



ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND 

Think of one who comes no more 

To our circle glad and gay. 
Once, she gave us of her store, 

Shared our simple holiday. 

Silent, to the silent land 

Was her gentle spirit's flight,' 
From our earth ball, bound and shunned, 
\ To the realm of endless light. 

To the aeons that replace 
Well our paltry tale of years, 

To the truth's unclouded face, 
To the music of the spheres. 

Well equipt our friend might seem 
For that sudden, mystic change. 

To her patient soul, we deem 
Heavenly greetings were not strange. 

Freed from days of sujff'ring drear, 
From the torment of her pain. 

She is still a presence here, 
In our love she lives again. 
141 



THE CHRIST 

COMMUNION, CHANNING MEMORIAL CHURCH 

I HAVE grasped to-day a hand outstretched 

Long since, for human weal; 

Its gesture strong for righteousness, 

Its mercy swift to heal. 

Unto the question of my soul 

Its touch an answer gives; 

I asked of God: "Is Christ with Thee ?" 

It answers: "Still he lives. 

"The glory of the world you love 
Comes of the life he led; 
You feel its radiance everywhere, 
And ask if he is dead ? " 

Then to my thought that hand of help 
A golden net did spread 
Wherein were all we deem alive, 
And all whom we call dead. 

And, as I looked, a voice did say: 
"Harm not a single mesh; 
It holds in harmony divine 
All spirit and all flesh." 
142 



THE PEACE CONGRESS 

The legendary ark of yore 
Sent forth a pilgrim dove 
Whose pinions fair a message bore, 
An embassy of love. 

Where first her foot did rest, was found 
The olive branch of Peace, 
And, waving this o'er Ocean's bound, 
She bade its tumult cease. 

Again, when Jesus, strong to save, 
By Jordan's tide did wait, 
A white dove hovered o'er the wave 
His form should consecrate. ; 

The blazonry of discord glows 

In the ensanguined East, 

And man with man must meet as foes, 

As beast encounters beast. 

But human souls have power to seek 
The majesty of prayer. 
And, quickened by its might, to speak 
Words that sound everywhere. 
143 



144 THE PEACE CONGRESS 

From these calm precincts where we meet 
Intent on heavenly things, 
The Dove of Peace the world shall greet 
With healing on her wings. 
1904. 



IN THE STREET 

Along the way bright chariots rolled, 
With pleasure-seekers, gay and bold. 
The throng passed by and knew me not. 
The service of my life forgot. 

The flush of youth, the pride of wealth. 
Broadly displayed, though gained by stealth, 
All, all their eager game pursued. 
Neglected in the street I stood. 

In a poor attic, overhead, 
Were certain maids who sewed for bread, 
Cheering their work with songs of mine. 
Musing, I cried, "Rich gifts may please, 
But where are givers like to these 
Who, without knowledge or design, 
Here crown me with a joy divine?" 



145 



NOVEMBER 

All in a chamber 

Besprent with amber 
The parting Year his guests receives. 

His sunsets tender 

Their robes of splendor; 
Still is he crowned with golden leaves. 

While yet he lingers 

The Frost's swift fingers 
Are weaving him his wintry shroud; 

A pall descending 

With crystal blending 
Shall veil his forests, slumber-bowed. 

Beyond this curtain 

His end is certain. 
Why, then, does he still smile and sing ? 

Because a vision 

Of hope elysian 
Reveals the promise of the spring. 



1909. 



146 



SIX PRETTY CRADLES 

I HAVE tended six pretty cradles, 
With the prettiest babes within; 

All heart-flames of holy rapture 
In a world of grief and sin. 

Six cradles make six cofl5ns; 

I see them as I sit. 
In giving life I have given death — 

Thus sorrow and solace knit! 

Six babes may make six angels; 

Oh! grant it, God of grace, 
That, lifted on their loving wings, 

I too may see Thy face! 



1909. 



147 



CHRISTMAS 

In highest heaven a new-born star 
Unveils its radiance from afar; 
The while, upon her first-born child, 
The mother of an hour has smiled. 

To what a rustic nursery 
Cometh this dear nativity! 
No hostelry our Babe receives. 
Upon the refuse of the sheaves 
Is pillowed that sweet forehead, born 
To feel the sharpness of the thorn. 

Pious souls, in Orient warned, 
Seek the Presence unadorned. 
Journeying far, they would inquire 
Where doth rest the mystic fire 
That shall ravish land and sea 
With a new divinity. 

Regal gifts the pilgrims bear, — 
Gold and myrrh and incense rare. 
Soon the offered sweet perfume 
Consecrates the stable room: 
While, from out the wintry gloom, 
148 



CHRISTMAS 149 

Leaping Dawn uplights the skies, 
Shows the Babe to reverent eyes. 

Soon thou, dear Child, wilt leave thy play. 

Mimic dance, and roundelay; 

By some deep whisper in thy breast 

Sent on Truth's immortal quest; 

In thy young reason, tender still, 

Shaping the fated fight with ill. 

Thou shalt learn the humble trade 
That for thee no cradle made; 
Eat the peasant's homely fare, 
His unfashioned garments wear. 
While thy royalty of soul 
Doth foreshadow its control 
Over ages yet unborn 
That shall bless thy natal morn. 

Ah, sorrow ! that thy fair spring- tide 
The martyr's mission must abide, 
Thy thought with saintly daring probe 
The festering ulcers of the globe; 
While reckless multitudes will stand 
To pierce and bind thy healing hand, 
And thy manhood's fixed intent 
Leads to Calvary's ascent. 



ISO CHRISTMAS 

O joy ! that far beyond the cross, 
Its bitter pain, its shame and loss, 
Above the failure men might see 
Truth's endless triumph crowneth thee! 
Such a promise in thy birth. 
Such a glory come to earth. 
Such a tragedy divine 
To be wrought in pangs of time, 
Such redemption without end. 
Brother, Master, Saviour, Friend! 



CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
U . S . A 



JAM 13 1911 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



13 mt 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



016 117 624 2 



